dreaming of a white christmas
by billiespiper
Summary: And that's when the Doctor realizes that happiness, while fleeting, is a precious thing. / Christmases have always been an adventure.


After the last of the wine has been drunk, and the last of the roast beef has been cleared off the platter, the Doctor leans back in his chair to study Amy and Rory. She's wearing that silly holiday sweater, and he's wearing his goofy grin. They look absolutely ridiculous together. Ridiculous, yet somehow the happiest they've been in a while. Everything feels like normal, the Doctor still cracks jokes and Rory still fumbles over replies, but everything is different. They sneak glances throughout the entire time, and when he drops his fork on the floor and bends to pick it up, he can see their fingers laced together tightly. They're the Ponds now, a joined unit. And they seem to be getting along pretty well without him.

Amy and Rory lead him to the front door, laughing lightly the whole way. They exclaim their goodbyes, Amy's scottish brogue breaking through heavily in her excitement. She hugs him tight for a moment, then pulls back, searching his eyes.

"This isn't the last you'll be seeing of us, Doctor. Not for a long time." He laughs, hand drifting up to hold the upper part of her arm.

"I don't doubt that, Amelia Pond." Rory chuckles behind them, leaning against the frame of their door. The Doctor takes in the color of the wood, and snorts for a moment.

"Nice door. Something blue, eh?" The Ponds smile, and the Doctor turns to leave.

"See you around then!" Rory calls after him. He pauses, smiling to himself.

"Yes. I'll see you two soon. Don't you worry."

"And this time, make it less than 12 years, won't you?" The snark in Amy's tone is so familiar, so comforting. He can't stop the warmth from spreading across his body.

"No promises!"

The Doctor struts off towards the Tardis, ignoring the agitated whine of his name behind him.

"Where to now, sweetie?" He props his hand up on the complicated machinery of his spaceship smiling fondly. "Take me… take me somewhere I like." Coordinates pop onto the screen quickly, too fast for the Doctor to detect the exact location. Soon, they're moving, him and the Tardis, moving through space and maybe even time. He loves playing the wild card- never knowing where he'll land. His Tardis always takes him somewhere nice though. Always takes him someplace good.

They land suddenly, and he rocks forward a bit in the haste. He'll never get used to that. In 900 years and the many more following, he'll never get used to jolting as the ground settles beneath the Tardis.

The Doctor grins in delight, rocking on the balls of his feet.

"Where are we, then? Have you taken me to the Land of the Ood? I love a good Ood, I do. Friendly creatures. _Great_ creatures. I'm always in the mood for an Ood."

Chuckling to himself, the Doctor swings the doors of the Tardis open, expecting snowy mountains and aliens with their brains resting peacefully in their hands, but instead he finds… just plain old London. London on any day, in seemingly modern time. Snow settles on the streets, coating the pavement lightly. People are laughing in the distance. But the Doctor knows that laughter. It's the laughter of relief. He's saved the world countless times, and he can detect the sound of relief as well as he can detect upcoming temperatures or location coordinates. Humanity has just been saved from something bad, very bad.

He quickly begins to wonder if it was him who's saved everyone. Then, he expels the thought of maybe. It's always him. He's always the one to save the Earth. He will never, ever be done saving the planet. The Doctor squints up into the sky to find meteor-like items shooting across the dark, snowy night. The memory seems familiar, but he just can't place it.

"So, what year is this? Which time is this?" The Doctor speaks softly to the Tarids, too soft for anyone to hear in case of confusion.

There's a laugh in the distant, loud and happy and something different than relieved. _Proud_. Satisfied. The never ending sense of déja-vu that accompanies time travel is unsettling.

Voices. He can hear voices. A conversation. The Doctor steps into the shadows, peering around the wall that the Tardis landed in front of.

"_And what about you? What are you going to do next?_" The Doctor frowns deeply. That voice rings in his mind, slightly muted by the distance.

A male voice replies, and the Doctor edges closer to try and hear more of the conversation. When he sees the people in question, the first thing he sees is blonde hair spilling over a dark jacket. Then, the Tardis. _His_ Tardis. The very one that's parked not a block away.

"_On your own?_" The girl is still talking to someone hidden in the shadows, and the nagging familiarity irritates him to no end.

"_Why, don't you want to come?_" When the girl moves forward, into the yellow light pooling down from the street lamps, the Doctor can suddenly see her face. Full, pink lips and big eyes. A big, toothy smile that he can place anywhere. Rose Tyler. _His_ Rose Tyler. And the man in the shadows his _him_. The Doctor. Tenth Regeneration.

The air he's been holding between his teeth is released quickly. He (past he) still talks to Rose, but by now the Doctor has tuned out their conversation. Rose Tyler is standing ten feet in front of him. Rose Tyler is alive and fleshy and living on planet Earth. Rose Tyler has yet to let go of the lever, has yet to be launched into a parallel universe. Rose Tyler is still smiling.

Rose begins to speak to Mickey, voice alight with joy about how much she wants to see. About all of time and space waiting for her. He has to press his body against the brick wall to keep from keeling over. Her whole life, everything she wants to see. And he was the one to cut it short for her. He put out Rose Tyler's light.

The Doctor watches as he reaches down to take Rose's hand. She bumps up against his shoulder, and the Doctor can feel his body tingle in the present. He looks so happy there, with the snow settling onto his eyelashes and the contours of his face. In this moment, the burdens of being a Time Lord are forgotten because the highlights are brought alive. His Tenth regeneration points up to the sky and Rose tilts her head to look where he's showing her. Rose Tyler, the Doctor and the Tardis. Everything is right in this point in time. Everything is right, but he, so selfish and narcissistic, wants nothing more than to grab Rose one last time. To grab her arm and feel her warmth and leave himself one last memory.

But he doesn't. He steps back into the shadows, steps closer to the Tardis and pats the blue wood.

Swallowing hard, he rests his head on the edge.

"_Thank you_." He whispers, before going back into his spaceship.

He wraps his hands around the railings just after the door and sighs. The words of Kazran Sardick ring through in his mind.

_One last day with your beloved- which would you choose?_

The Doctor flips a switch and sets the Tardis into motion. Maybe he'll impose on Amy and Rory for just a day longer. Just for the night. Just to not be alone.

He leaves his past behind, and shakes his head tightly. One last day. One last happy day.

He closes his eyes and behind the darkness of his eyelids he can see Rose beaming at him, and the feel of her hand in his. The Doctor closes his eyes and he is content.

/

**a/n: Wow, how long has it been since I've written fanfiction? Well, I've just caught myself up to the current season of Doctor Who, and I couldn't help but write a ficlet about Eleven and Rose (and Ten and Amy and Rory). They're all such brilliant characters, but I will always miss Rose. Rose and every other companion that has left, too. Anyway, Happy New Years!**


End file.
